


Sex Magic

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, Bunker Sex, Comeplay, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Humor, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Magic, bored on a weeknight, sex ritual, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam and Dean are bored and drunk and decide to try a spell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Magic

So it turns out that drinking and witchcraft mix _sometimes._

The scene opens like this:

Quiet night in the bunker. Too late to start shit, too early to turn in for the night. You know the type. The type where you end up in your bedroom masturbating half-heartedly to Japanese cartoon porn because hell, it’s not like you’ve got anything _better_ to do.

Dean’s sitting at the living room table, finishing off his third beer and oscillating between wanting to graduate to hard liquor and wanting to find some mediocre animated tits and call it a night.

Sam wanders in and Dean raises two fingers in greeting, not really paying attention because Sam’s got _no_ freaking input on this decision and anyway, he looks like he’s about half in the bag himself.

“So get this,” Sam says and Dean groans because he knows for a fact Sam hasn’t got a case. That means gigantor wants his help with something _else_ and it’s probably gonna be stupid.

He goes for the hard liquor.

“I found a spell,” Sam says, and Dean has to blink twice before he responds because of _course_ he found a spell, they’ve got a whole fucking _library_ full of magic bullshit, you can’t swing a damn cat in this place without finding a spell-

“This is either a total dud or a really, _really_ interesting Saturday night,” Sam says, and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Dean think maybe there might be something a little more interesting than cartoon tits on the menu for tonight.

Sam hands him a page and he looks it over. He glances up at his brother, one eyebrow raising.

“Bind them together.”

“Yeah. So you feel what I feel and vice versa.”

Dean doesn’t let his expression change.

“Why?”

Sam shrugs.

“Something to do?”

Dean sighs and pushes the page back across the table.

“Sorry Sammy, but no magic’s going anywhere near my dick unless it’s an emergency.”

Sam nods.

“I’ll blow you.”

“Deal.”

 

Sam doesn’t initiate often, usually just content to go along with Dean’s drunken fumbling, so Dean’s not in the habit of turning him down when he does.

Dean reads the page over three times, just checking to make sure they aren’t gonna give themselves a case of magic crotch-rot, cuz wouldn’t _that_ just be a plum ending to a damn boring day. It looks pretty safe, all things considered- a couple symbolic gestures, some chanting in a language Sam says is Sumerian (and he’d fucking know, wouldn’t he) and some sigils painted on their bodies. Easy enough.

Sam brings out a little stone bowl and what looks like a length of thin leather cord. Dean waggles his eyebrows.

“Leather, huh? Kinky.”

Sam rolls his eyes and unzips his fly.

“Come on, we’ve gotta be hard for this to work.”

Dean looks around, all fake-nonchalance.

“I believe I was promised a blowjob.”

“After.”

“Nope. Only way I’m getting hard tonight is inside that sexy mouth of yours.”

“You’re gross.”

Dean shrugs, then glances meaningfully downwards.

“So we doing this, or what?”

Sam groans, but goes for it anyway, dropping to his knees and working Dean’s dick out of his pants. He takes it into his mouth without preamble, working up and down his brother’s hardening length. With his other hand he strokes his own cock, tight at the base, giving it a little twist when his palm skirts over the head. His tongue is hot against the underside of Dean’s cock.

Dean tips his head up, pushing his hips forward into Sam’s waiting mouth.

“God, you’re good,” he mumbles. “You could do this professionally.”

“You’d know,” Sam says, pulling off the slick member with a _pop._ “You taste like a French whore.”

“I enjoy the finer things,” Dean retorts as Sam rises to his feet. He picks up the leather thong, twisting it between his fingers. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

They have to get close, really close, their thighs touching on one side, their cocks lined up against each other. Dean’s still wet from Sam’s mouth, and the smooth skin of his dick slips against Sam’s. They’re more or less evenly matched; Dean’s a little thicker, Sam’s a little longer. When Dean reaches down he’s able to wrap his hand partially around both shafts. He strokes them both slowly, enjoying the sounds Sam makes as their cocks rub together.

He just watches for a while, loving the image of the two of them together, loving the feel of Sam’s cock on his own. Sam’s looking down too, watching him, and Dean will never admit that he loves the way his brother’s cheeks are flushed, little Sammy’s three sheets to the wind and he always gets a little frisky when he’s like that.

Dean takes the cord and wraps it slowly around the two of them, pulling Sam even closer to keep the cord from pulling. Sam’s arm is around his back, holding him, and it’s nice, having him this close.

Dean guides Sam’s other hand down, until they’re holding their cocks together, working them slowly against each other. Dean’s not sure he’d do this _again,_ but it’s not bad. The best part is the noises Sam’s making when Dean’s thumb ghosts over the head of his cock, smearing precome in small circles around the tip.

“You remember the words, Sam?”

Sam nods, but before he can speak, Dean leans in and kisses his mouth- no tongue, you don’t _tongue-kiss_ your brother, geez- and Sam’s eyes soften and in that moment, Dean loves him.

Sam has to say the spell a couple words at a time because Dean keeps pressing their lips together, interrupting him, again and again, while all the while he’s grinding up against Sam’s cock. Every time he moves, the leather bands tighten in concentric rings and it’s growing on him, the way that feels. Sam’s hands are huge, long fingers twining with Dean’s as they stroke themselves together.

Sam’s breath begins to catch, and Dean grins because he knows Sam’s tells well enough to know he’s close. He drops his mouth to Sam’s throat, sucking the salt off the skin there, listening to his brother stammering out the remainder of the spell.

“Come for me, Sammy,” he murmurs into the hollow of Sam’s throat, and Sam shudders, spilling into Dean’s fist, hot and slick and messy, the way Dean loves. He’s coming himself a second later, his jizz mixing with Sam’s, and just in time he remembers the bowl.

They’re able to collect most of it, only a small amount got on Sam’s shirt, and looking at the bowl, Dean figures they’ll have enough. He unwraps the leather from their softening cocks, wincing when Sam’s fingers brush the oversensitive skin.

They strip their clothes off, Dean going quite a bit slower because he keeps stopping to watch. He’s of the opinion that watching Sam undress is one of the most erotic sights on earth, the way he goes through layer after layer, each one leaving the form of his body more clear, more exposed, until finally he’s down to skin. The pink flush of inebriation is across his chest as well as his cheeks, and it just gets deeper when he realizes the way Dean is staring at him.

“Hurry up, it’s cold,” Sam says, and Dean raises an eyebrow at him because it isn’t- not at all.

Dean strips off the rest of his clothes, utterly unselfconscious in front of his brother’s gaze. He picks up the bowl, mixing the thin fluid together with his fingertip. It’s warm from their bodies but cooling quickly.

He moves to stand in front of Sam and they work silently, in unison, using the clear liquid to make marks on each other’s bodies- third eye, cheeks, lower lips- throat, breastbone, nipples- and then they work one at a time, each dropping to their knees to paint belly, navel, iliac crests- knees, calves, the top of each foot.

Dean turns his back and stands with his arms outstretched, letting Sam paint the runes into the skin of his back. He leaves a mark on the small of Dean’s back, then pinches his ass for good measure.

There will be retaliation for that, but right now, their paint is getting cold and sticky and Dean has to hurry to get the matching runes onto Sam’s back before it’s ruined. He uses the last of it to make the mark on Sam’s lower back and that’s it, that’s the spell.

“Feel anything?”

“Close your eyes.”

Dean does, and waits. Nothing.

“Should something be happening?”

“I guess not,” Sam sighs. So the spell’s a bust. Not the end of the world. At least there was an orgasm in it for them, which is more than could be said for most of their failures. Most of the time they just ended up with bone fractures and concussions, so Dean tallied this, overall, as a win in his book.

“You wanna go take a shower?”

“Yeah, alright.”

 

It starts when the hot water begins to sluice through the runes. One minute Dean is leaning against the tile wall, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s hands on his back, and the next minute Dean can feel his cock pressing against something warm. After a second he realizes it’s his own thigh.

Curious, he reaches between his legs and wraps his hand around his soft dick, and Sam gasps.

“You feel that?”

“Holy shit,” Sam says quietly, and Dean is suddenly struck speechless by the sheer magnitude of pranks that have just this moment become available to him.

He gives his dick an experimental tug, and Sam hisses.

“I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Dean gives himself another pull, softer this time, and Sam presses up against his back, hard and solid.

“You do that again and we’re gonna run out of hot water.”

Dean’s hand slides lower, rolling his balls between his fingers. Sam’s forehead rests against the back of his neck, his breath hot when he laughs. Dean pushes his hips back, feels his own ass grinding against his cock.

“In that case, I believe I’m still owed a blowjob.”

Sam laughs, and shuts the water off.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Making people share prompts again because I am a miserly bitch. 
> 
> I just want any fic where as part of a ritual, Sam and Dean mix their cum together and paint their bodies with it.
> 
>  
> 
> and
> 
>  
> 
> Either they want to do it for fun, or a sex ritual demands it - but Sam and Dean magically bond their penises together, so that they feel each other's pleasure. Part of the spell involves them actually binding their penises together, lining them up shaft-to-shaft, and wrapping them together with string or hairbands or something.
> 
>  
> 
> I got the idea that these folks were interested in the spell more than the ensuing sex, so, that's how I wrote it. I have the feeling that this spell will probably wear off after a while, but if anyone wants to write the continuing adventures of the Mirrordick Winchesters- be my guest.


End file.
